Page 3 of Hellhounds Never Lie

And I did want to keep my secret. More than anything.

I didn’t want anyone to look at me the way I knew they would if they discovered my magic had been drained out of me like someone sucking up sawdust with a shop vac. And, if my magic hadn’t recovered after all these years, I doubted it ever would. I couldn’t handle everyone looking at me like the poor little broken mage I was.

Blah, blah, blah.Woe is fucking me.

Moving on.

It didn’t help to live in the past and daydream about what I’d lost. I’d moved to Willow Lake to get away from my mother’s constant coddling and my big brother’s over-protectiveness. I didn’t need to wallow in that shit anymore. And I didn’t need to have the whole community look at me with pity.

I may be a broken mage, but no one here cared.

Paws whacked me in the face again. “I told you to stop that.”

“Quit hitting me.” I rubbed my cheek but before I could look for blood again, a loud crash from across the room made me jump. An unfamiliar energy surged through the room. I swore even the fibers in my sweater quaked.

"What the—?"

Paws had already jumped off the table and was running for the bar. With an athletically graceful leap I hadn't known the chunky creature was capable of, Paws was on top of the bar, weaving between beer taps and pint glasses. The few people who were seated along the counter were staring at Jake. Others, some of the regulars, were swapping money, probably thinking today was the day Jake would discover the supernatural world and wanting to get in a few last wagers.

A couple of humans in the crowd laughed and clapped, thinking someone had broken a tray of glasses and they deserved a good ribbing for it. They didn't seem to notice every supe in the place had stopped what they were doing to identify if the strange magic surging through the room was friendly or not. Humans were dumb like that.

Well, to be fair, very few of them knew they were surrounded by supes and magic.

"Distract the humans," Paws shouted, which would sound like a cat's meow to anyone not in the know.

The people closest to the humans jumped into action, but I followed Paws to the bar. I wasn't sure if I could help, but I was one of the few witches in town and sometimes my kind could help channel other magic. Even a weak and damaged magic like mine could be a conduit for someone else's. My former coven—or I guess it still was my coven since I hadn’t formally demitted from it—did this all the time for one another. When mages linked up, each person in the chain amplified the magic a little more at very little magical expense.

The least I could do was offer, if needed.

Behind the counter, Jake was frantically rummaging through the drawer under the cash register. I might not be a were-creature and thus able to scent emotions, but even I could feel the tension rolling off the guy. When Jake wrapped his hands around a pen and a roll of register tape, he groaned like he’d just had the best orgasm and his shoulders relaxed. He unraveled a length of paper, not seeming to notice when the rest of the roll dropped over the counter and unspooled across the sticky tiled floor.

Jake jerked the pen over the paper in quick rapid strokes. His eyes seemed focused on a bottle of Amaretto on the wall, but his pen never slipped beyond the narrow limit of the paper. Not once. It was a bit creepy to be honest. He didn't blink. I wasn't even sure he was aware of what he was doing or looking at. I’d heard Jake was an artist and I had even thought about joining one of the art afternoons he organized for anyone who wanted to try their hand at doing something artistic, but I didn't think this was his usual method or medium.

Paws leapt from the serving counter to the back counter where Jake was. He prowled toward the guy. Slowly. Silently. He moved like a deadly panther stalking its prey through the jungle. I didn’t know exactly what Paws was—the creature might look like a house cat, but he was more than that. A lot more.

When Paws got within a foot of Jake's mad creation, he tilted his head and eyed the drawing.

"Hellfire and brimstone." Paws whipped his tail through the air. "He's a fucking oracle."

Surprise rippled through the pub. A few people picked up their phones and started texting or phoning their friends. This was big news. Everyone in Willow Lake would know about Jake in about fifteen minutes or less.

"Do you think he knows?" Sally, one of the regulars who was seated at the bar, asked.

"Nope." Paws popped the ‘p.’ "He still can't see us so he's obviously in denial. Believe me, I live with the guy. I'd know if he'd figured this shit out."

Jake didn't acknowledge the conversation. Had he even heard it? Was he in a trance? The whole situation was eerie. Everyone inched closer, curious to know what the oracle would share. I had never met an oracle before, but it was common knowledge their messages could be cryptic.

Finally, the pen dropped from Jake's hand. His fingers spasmed. He blinked. Then all the color drained from his face. He swayed for a moment before turning and bolting toward the bathroom.

"Weston," Paws shouted.

"On it," the merman said as he shot after Jake.

Weston was trained in first aid, so it made sense Paws had sent him after Jake. The vision had Jake looking a little queasy. Was this his first vision ever? If it was, hopefully the next one didn’t take so much out of him.

As Alice, Jake's part time waitress, hurried behind the bar to fill in for him, Paws padded over to the drawing of Jake’s vision. As soon as his yellow eyes took in the details, he swore.

"Hayden," he called out to the werewolf who refused to be called alpha, "what is the phase of the moon tonight?"